“Isn’t this just beautiful?” the customer remarked, setting the vase on the counter.
“It is,” Andie agreed, her eyes meeting the customer’s as she began wrapping the vase carefully in protective tissue. “It’s a special piece—nineteenth-century French porcelain. You have excellent taste.”
The customer beamed, clearly pleased with her find. Andie processed the payment, handed over the bag containing the vase, and bid her customer a cheerful goodbye.
Andie picked up the duster again and started cleaning an antique slag glass lamp that sat atop a vintage writing desk. The lamp’s intricate metalwork and colorful, marbled glass had caught her eye at an estate sale months ago. As she moved the duster in gentle circles, her eyes wandered to a pair of old trunks tucked away in the corner of the store.
Those trunks had come from the attic of a stately home, hidden so well among cobwebs and old furniture that most people had missed them. Andie had only had the chance for a cursory look inside each, but the initial peek had revealed a tantalizing glimpse of old books, tarnished jewelry, and fabric that might’ve been clothing or linens from decades—maybe even centuries—past.
The customer who had been browsing in the back had made her way out the door, and finally, Andie was alone in the store.
“No time like the present,” she thought, setting aside the duster and hurrying over to the trunks.
With a sense of expectation tingling at the back of her mind, she pulled one of the trunks closer to a cushioned chair meant for customers to take a load off while contemplating a potential purchase. She unbuckled the rusted latch, its creaking sound accompanied by a puff of dust that spoke of long-kept secrets.
As the lid swung open, a musty but not unpleasant odor wafted up—a mixture of aged leather, wood, and the indefinable scent of old things long stored away. It felt as if she was about to open a time capsule. Her fingers tingled with anticipation as she considered the untold stories that might be hidden within.
Andie could hardly wait to explore the contents. As she began to carefully lift out the topmost items—a couple of old books and what appeared to be a hand-embroidered shawl—she felt a rush of excitement.
Digging deeper into the trunk, Andie uncovered a porcelain figurine of a ballerina, one arm gracefully stretched above her head, though her tutu was chipped at the edges. Next, she found a small tin box filled with vintage postcards, the faded images capturing long-gone landscapes and landmarks.
But as she moved these items aside, she noticed something incongruous with the other treasures. Tossed haphazardly at the bottom were what appeared to be Christmas decorations.Garland, plastic mistletoe. Some ornaments had been placed there without much care, and sadly, a few were smashed, their shattered pieces intermingling with strands of tarnished tinsel.
And there, partially buried by a broken ornament and a sprig of artificial mistletoe, was a sad little present. It was still wrapped in yellowing paper that must’ve once been vibrant and cheerful. A frayed ribbon barely held its bow together. A tiny tag dangled from it, the ink faded but still legible. It read, “To Urchin.”
Urchin? Was that a nickname? Andie couldn’t help but wonder who it was and why this gift had never found its way into their hands. A sense of melancholy washed over her as she considered the countless possible stories behind this unopened gift.
As she looked at the tag, she felt an inexplicable connection to its intended recipient, a responsibility to try to find out who it belonged to. And she knew exactly who she could ask to help.
CHAPTER FOUR
Jane returned to Tides after talking Maxi down off the ledge. Cooper, her golden Lab, bounded into the foyer, his tail wagging energetically. Jane bent down to give him a quick scratch behind the ears. “Hey, Coop. Miss me?”
Cooper’s wagging tail seemed to say “Always” as he circled her legs before settling down, eyeing the decorations on the counter with canine curiosity.
As she straightened up, Liz Weston looked up from the front desk and greeted her with a smile. “You’re just in time. Olga Svenson dropped off some Norwegian Christmas decorations that she made herself. She thought they’d be perfect for the Prelude.”
Jane’s eyes widened as she approached the collection spread out on the counter. Traditional straw ornaments, delicately carved wooden figures, and intricately woven heart-shaped baskets caught her eye. A small tomte, a mythological creature resembling a gnome, sat in a corner, its red cap tilted just so.
“Olga really outdid herself, didn’t she?” Jane beamed, clearly pleased with the array.
“She likes to keep busy,” Liz agreed, casting a glance at Cooper, who seemed intrigued by the straw ornaments.
“I’ll say.”
“Her children keep pressing her to move to assisted living, you know.” Liz shook her head. “She’s ninety-five and can craft better than anyone I know. Not to mention she still manages to walk three times a day. She’s more than capable of living on her own.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Jane nodded, picking up one of the straw ornaments and twirling it gently between her fingers and looking around to pick out a place to put it. “I think the baskets could go over here, and maybe we could hang the paper chains on the window.” Jane stopped and narrowed her gaze at the window in the foyer, where the top trim seemed to be a bit loose. “Guess I’ll need to call Sally to fix that first.”
There was always something to repair in these old houses, and Sally was the local handywoman who Jane practically had on speed dial.
Jane looked up from her conversation with Liz to see Susan, Betty, Carol, and Margie coming in the front door, arms loaded with shopping bags from their early outing.
Cooper bounded over to the ladies.
“Cooper!” Carol cooed, dropping her bags to hug the exuberant dog.
“He’s a sweetheart, isn’t he?” Jane said, beaming as Cooper wagged his tail furiously, clearly enjoying the attention.
